“Well, Ivy,” said Mrs. Beatup, “I doan’t hold wud your goings-on, nuther; but anyway you’re useful.”
“I’m earning money, though,” said Nell; “at least I shall be when my third year’s up.”
“And how soon ull that be, I’d lik to know? There you go, out all day, when you might be helping us at home, and not a penny to show fur it.”
“Mother, I’ve told you again and again—why won’t you understand?—I’m being given lessons in exchange for those I give myself, and——”
“Lessons! A girl turned seventeen! I call it lamentable. I’d a-done wud my schooling at twelve.”
“But you know I have to pass an exam....”
“I doan’t see no ‘have’ in it. Better kip at hoame and help me wud the cooking. Out all day and bring home no money! I doan’t call that——”
“Well, I’m off,” said Ivy, getting up and wiping her mouth. “You two are lik a couple of barndoor cocks, walking round and round each other. I’ve summat better to do—I’ve the passage to scrub”—and she took her sacking apron off the nail.
“Where’s Zacky?” asked Mrs. Beatup. “Has he started for school?”
“Yes, he’s gone wud the Sindens.”